any other name
by precipice blades
Summary: Satoru ruminates on his and Sawamura's relationship. His solution? Ask anyone but Sawamura about it. —pre-furusawa; brief okusawa, setosawa, asasawa


**[chef's kiss] now this is what i call self-indulgent**

* * *

It's an unremarkable school night when Satoru realizes that he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he started mentally calling Sawamura by his given name.

For some inexplicable reason, the epiphany leaves his stomach in anxious knots, making him unable to sleep. He lies awake, gray eyes boring holes into the bunk above him, envious of his sleeping roommates.

It's natural for friends to call each other by their given names, right? After all, Haruichi and Sawamura refer to one another as "Eijun-kun" and "Harucchi." He's not infringing on personal boundaries—at least, he doesn't think so. He and Sawamura are, undoubtedly, rivals, but even oblivious onlookers could see that their rivalry wasn't of the conventional variety. The thought brings a small smile to Satoru's face as he recounts the innumerable times Sawamura has been a comforting— _friendly_ —presence ever at his side.

 _But then again_ , he thinks, rolling over to face the bleak white expanse of his wall. _Are Sawamura and I…friends?_

It bothers him that he's unable to find an immediate answer to that question. For the first time in a long while, Satoru can't sleep.

/

The next morning finds Satoru feeling like the dead.

His alarm blares, and the device usually would have gotten multiple stern smacks until it quiets down before Satoru rolls over and sleeps again. Now, the sound beeps incessantly, serving as a grim reminder of last night's unfortunate lack of rest.

A few noisy minutes pass, and Yui creeps into Satoru's periphery. The boy shuts off the alarm, gracing the room with a blissful silence. Satoru issues a private thanks to Yui, grateful that he didn't have to get up himself to do the task. He fears he might have keeled over had he taken just one step off his mattress.

"Furuya-san?" Yui asks, tone awash with concern. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Satoru replies, voice tapering into a harsh rasp. "I'm all right."

Yui ducks his head a little, light brown hair haloed by the sunlight streaming through the blinds. "Are you sure? I know it takes you awhile to get up, but you let the alarm ring for ten minutes."

Satoru's brow crinkles at that. Had he really been lying down for that long? "Oh, I hadn't noticed."

Yui frowns, a curved line marring his youthful face. "…You know, if something is bothering you…"

A dismissal is already on his tongue before Satoru forcefully bites it down. Now that he thinks about, Yui is his friend, so there's no problem in asking him, right?

"Well…"

Yui's eyebrow raises, amused that Satoru actually had taken up his offer. "Yes?"

For some reason, Satoru feels nervous, his cheeks flushing under the attention. He wets his lips with a brief swipe of his tongue before asking, "How do you know if you're friends with someone?"

Surprise paints Yui's face, the boy's mouth parting slightly, clearly unprepared for such an inquiry. "Oh, that's…It really depends on the person."

"How so?"

Yui's face contorts in thought, before settling on a sheepish expression, his hand coming up to self-consciously rub at the back of his neck. "I mean, people express their friendship differently."

"I see," Satoru says, going quiet. That's a disappointing answer, but he didn't want to voice that sentiment aloud.

Sweat beads at Yui's temple as he stands hesitantly at Satoru's bedside. He never did know how to deal with Satoru's sudden onsets of silence. "Um, if I may, what brought this on?"

Satoru sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and planting his feet on the floor. "I was just thinking about someone."

Yui covers his mouth, obscuring the smile he knows is creeping onto his face. "Could this someone possibly be…Sawamura-senpai?"

Satoru's eyes widen just a fraction, a movement so small it would have gone remiss had Yui not been standing so close. "How…"

"Sometimes, your expressions give you away, Furuya-san," Yui says, brazen, his small smirk no longer hidden behind his hand. Putting his hands on his hips, he continues, "In your case, it's best to be upfront about it."

Satoru sighs, broad shoulders slumping and gaze falling to the folded hands on his lap. It's an efficient solution, seeing how Sawamura didn't have a subtle bone in his body, but outright confrontation seemed overdramatic. Satoru wouldn't be surprised if Sawamura laughed in his face if he voiced his concerns.

"If it's possible, I wish to avoid that," Satoru says, looking up to see that secretive smile still hanging on Yui's lips. The sight made Satoru feel small, like he's a child who's unaware of something incredibly obvious.

"If that's what you want," Yui says, his tone placating. "I still think it's best to talk to Sawamura-senpai about it, but I won't stand in your way. Practice is going to start soon, so let's go. I don't want to keep Ono-senpai waiting."

Satoru nods, the mere mention of practice soothing his exhaustion. A couple of warm-ups would do wonders for postponing his inevitable decision. By the time he's fully dressed, the issue has already been forgotten.

He follows Yui out the door, pausing when Yui abruptly stops, leaving the duo hovering awkwardly underneath the frame.

Yui turns to Satoru, an enigmatic smile on his face. "You're overthinking things, but if you want, you should talk to Okumura and Seto. I think they could help you out."

/

Satoru waits until the cafeteria is mostly empty before making his move. Taking his tray, he walks over to the table the first years have claimed and plops down on a plastic chair directly across Okumura. The blond looks up, levels him a blank stare, and drops his eyes back to his bowl of rice. Seto, at Okumura's side, spares Satoru a glance, unsure of what to say.

Satoru stares at them, heedless to the confused looks of the other players preparing to leave. He makes brief eye contact with Yui, who shoots him a smile before joining a group of boys exiting the cafeteria.

"Uh, hey senpai," Seto says, a friendly grin on his face. "Is there something you need?"

Satoru's shoulders sag from immense relief. Thank goodness Seto cut to the chase, or he would have been forced to make small talk with these two. "Yes, I would like to ask for your opinion on something."

Okumura chews thoughtfully, looking extremely pained doing so. "On your pitching?"

Satoru shakes his head. "No, it's…It's a bit childish, but I would appreciate your input."

"All right, go ahead," Seto says, arms crossing on the table, giving Satoru his full attention. He notices that there's no tray in front of Seto, meaning the boy had already finished dinner and was waiting for Okumura to finish.

The observation reminds Satoru of Sawamura waiting for him in the field for their early morning jog, goading him into running more laps until they drop to the ground, sweaty and panting. He would turn his head, and his visage would be filled by Sawamura's impossibly wide grin, brighter than sun rays.

A familiar streak of content curls up Satoru's spine, his cheeks warming and his heart beating a tad faster. He quells the strange emotion, saying, "I want to know how you can tell if someone is your friend."

Seto looks at him with wide eyes, his grin faltering. Even the apathetic Okumura seemed to be at a loss for words.

"What," Okumura says, after a painfully long stretch of silence.

Shame makes Satoru's cheeks burn, rendering him unable to repeat his earlier statement.

"Senpai," Seto starts, graciously swooping in before the situation could get any more awkward, "is there someone you specifically had in mind?"

Satoru nods.

"Are—" Seto swallows, strained smile making a reappearance. "Are you going to tell us?"

Satoru shakes his head.

Seto stares at him, despaired.

Okumura returns to finishing his rice, the bowl still pathetically full.

"Wow, this is…" Seto coughs into his hand. "Okay, how about this: Is there a reason you're asking us and not anyone else?"

Finally, a question Satoru could answer! "Yes, I asked Yui and he told me to ask you guys."

"That's strange," Seto says, brow crinkling. "I wonder why he mentioned us…Hey, Kou, what do you think?"

Okumura looks ready to throw up. He puts a hand to his chest, his head ducking so that his yellow fringe obscures his eyes.

"Ah, never mind." Seto laughs, sheepish. He scratches his chin. "Well, to answer your earlier question, it depends on how you're interacting with that person. For example, me and Kou hang out a lot. We tell each other personal things, jokes—"

"It's only Taku making jokes," Okumura cuts in.

" _Whatever_ —Anyway, this is kind of hard to answer. I guess you just…know." Seto shrugs.

"That wasn't very helpful," Satoru says, making Seto flinch. Crap, Satoru forgot how callous he comes across at times. He really needs to learn to express himself better…

He's embarrassed when he immediately thinks of Sawamura, and how expressing himself would be no problem for the other boy.

"It would be easier if you told us who you're talking about," Okumura says, his tone carrying an unmistakably hostile edge to it.

Not wanting to risk the blond's ire, Satoru concedes. "I want to know if Sawamura and I are friends."

The second time that night, Seto and Okumura fix him unreadable looks.

"What," Okumura says, after a painfully long stretch of silence. Satoru wonders where this feeling of deja vu is coming from.

Seto jumps in, grin all too wide. "That's interesting. I thought you guys were just rivals?"

 _Just rivals._ Yes, Satoru knows that well, and yet it leaves a strong bitterness at the base of his throat. He swallows the lump down, ignoring the presence of such an unsightly feeling. "We are."

"So, you want to be more?" Seto asks, strangely giddy.

Satoru looks down at the table, focusing on his right hand. An image flits through his mind, one of bright eyes and an even brighter smile. He already has an answer.

"Yes," Satoru says. "I would like us to be friends."

He brings a hand to his chest, trying to calm his racing heart. He didn't think admitting that aloud would be so…euphoric.

He looks up again to see Seto grinning at him. Okumura is looking at him too, his blue eyes swimming with an indecipherable emotion.

"I see…" Seto says. "That's the kind of person our ace has his eyes on!"

Satoru nods, unsure. He doesn't know why, but he's getting the distinct feeling they're having two separate conversations here.

"If that's the case, you needn't worry," Seto tells him.

"That's what Yui said, too," Satoru says, frowning. "But I don't understand what that means."

"It means what it means," Seto says, gleefully disregarding Satoru's confusion.

Satoru's frown deepens. He still doesn't get it…Is he overlooking something?

"Senpai," Okumura says, leveling Satoru a deep blue stare, "I may be behind, but I won't lose to you."

Seto glances at his best friend, mouth stretched wide. "Ah, I forgot about that." Turning back to Satoru, he brings up a hand to cup the side of his mouth, dropping his volume to a stage whisper. "Actually, Kou here has his eyes on Sawamura-senpai, too. I wouldn't get too comfortable if I were you."

Okumura snorts, tidying his tray. "As if you're not watching him, either."

Seto laughs, sheepishly scratching his cheek as it reddens almost imperceptibly. "Heh, I didn't think you would have caught on so fast."

"You're not exactly subtle about it, Taku."

"Oh, whatever. Finish your dinner before trying to come for me!" Seto retorts, chuckling at Okumura's pained expression.

"I'm working on it…" Okumura murmurs, clutching at his chopsticks with renewed vigor.

Satoru watches the exchange with a hint of amusement, but the pair's earlier words ring loud in his head, triggering a painful twist deep in the center of Satoru's ribcage. He places his hand on his chest, fisting the fabric of his shirt into a tight grip—it's the same feeling he gets when he's pulled off the mound.

The ugly emotion nestling into the recesses of his heart, taking root like a weed—Satoru didn't know why it's making an appearance now, but he could recognize the burn of jealousy anywhere.

"I won't hand Sawamura over to anyone," Satoru says, resolute, steel gray eyes set on Okumura, who, in turn, retaliates with an icy blue stare of his own.

Seto furtively looks between the two, a bit fearful of the flaring auras emanating from them. "Looks like you found yourself another rival, senpai."

Satoru's gaze whips to Seto, metallic irises gleaming dangerously. "Oh, I didn't forget about you. I won't lose to you, either."

 _Jeez_ , Seto thinks. _What a fearsome guy…_

Seto returns the heated stare with a bemused smile. "Of course, senpai."

"Thank you for making time for me. I'll see you tomorrow," Satoru says, taking his empty tray and placing it on the counter.

"You don't want any more advice?" Seto asks.

"It's fine, thank you." With a bow of his head, Satoru walks past them, heading for the cafeteria's double doors.

"Don't think too hard about it, senpai!" Seto calls out, making Satoru pause. "If you're still worried, I'm sure Sawamura-senpai will be happy to tell you—"

"No need," Satoru says, swinging the doors open and effectively removing himself from any further discussion.

Seto releases a resigned sigh, propping his chin on his palm. "What a guy. I'm surprised he didn't realize the weight of saying the things he did."

There's a snapping noise beside him, and Seto's eyes widen to a comical size upon noticing the broken sticks in Okumura's clenched fists.

"Uh, are you all—"

"Yes," Okumura grumbles through gritted teeth, releasing the broken chopsticks from his death grip and watching them fall atop his tray in a resounding clatter. "I'm not hungry anymore."

He stands up, depositing his tray on the counter before brusquely walking to the exit. "I'll see you later, Taku."

Seto sighs into the emptiness of the cafeteria. Seriously, what troublesome people.

But, it's not like he can blame them. He, too, understood Furuya's predicament all too well. He held suspicions regarding the two pitchers' relationship, but it's another thing altogether to have them confirmed.

His mouth curls fondly when he thinks about the person responsible for their conversation, exceedingly familiar with the increasing heart rate that usually accompanies imagining a certain southpaw's wild brown eyes and illuminating grins.

"Heh, handing him over to me would have been too easy anyway." It'll be like stealing bases, and Seto's nothing if not an excellent runner.

A shy cough breaks Seto away from his musings, prompting Seto to look around for the source of the sound. His face lights up with a friendly grin.

"Oh, Asada! How long have you been sitting there?"

/

Satoru angles his body deeper into the slant of shadow cast upon on the ground from the pole behind him. He grumbles under his breath, internally cursing at the day's unbearable heat as sweat rolls uncomfortably down his arms and back. There is much he's grateful for since coming to Seido, but his sentiments don't extend towards the torturous Tokyo heat. He simply couldn't fathom anyone willfully subjecting themselves to such agony.

If Satoru wanted some sun, he would just look at Sawamura.

Even if the boy is loud and overexcitable, his compassion and unwavering dedication to any pursuit is admirable, making him both a fearsome player and an excellent rival. It also helps, Satoru admits in the safety of his mind, that Sawamura is easy on the eyes, what with his cute smiles and endearing blushes and soft, bouncy hair—

Satoru's train of thought skids to a halt, his heart hammering in his chest. It's normal to think of his friends as attractive, right? He's not accidentally stepping over any boundaries by internally waxing poetic about how pretty his rival is, right?

Reflexively, Satoru's eyes wander about the field, his gaze flitting from one body to the next before resting upon the object of his interest. He finds Sawamura near the batting cages, demonstrating his bunting technique to the seemingly enraptured first years. Despite there being quite a distance between them and Satoru, he could still clearly hear Sawamura's cries of "It's in the hips!"

Seeing Sawamura practice made Satoru's blood hum with a restless energy, urging him to return to the field and assert his rightful position as ace. He takes a step out of the shadow, the sun mercilessly beating down at him the moment he's separated from the shade provided by the pole.

On second thought, maybe extending his impromptu break wouldn't be so bad. From how busy everyone seems, Satoru figures he has a few more minutes before someone fetches him and forces him back into practicing in the grueling heat. Satoru's gaze returns to Sawamura and he wonders, a touch embarrassed, if he should be worried that Sawamura occupies his thoughts as frequently as baseball does.

Satoru watches Sawamura step away from the plate, handing the bat to his roommate, Asada. The tall boy accepts the bat with a wobbly smile, cheeks flushed a shy red. He jumps when his fingers brush against Sawamura's for a brief moment, keeping the contact a tad longer than what was considered friendly, before finally taking the bat, readying it and bending his knees into batting position.

The burn of bile bubbles low in Satoru's throat, overwhelming in its acidity. Satoru forcibly swallows the lump down, burying the emotion deep into the confines of his heart.

It's normal for a person to have multiple friends. Satoru knows this, and yet his heart hedonistically yearns for Sawamura to look at him and him _only_.

Maybe this is what it feels like to want to be someone's best friend, to be the one to cherish Sawamura the most and, out of everyone else, be the closest to him.

He's not surprised that his ego isn't satisfied with that conclusion, but for the life of him, he just can't place what he wants.

/

After practice, Satoru is cornered in front of the vending machine by one Asada Hirofumi.

Actually, "cornered" might be a tad dramatic. Satoru figures it's more like Asada was waiting for him to finish choosing his drink before wishing to speak to him, but chickened out at the last second, and is now staring at Satoru with a meek smile and flickering eyes, too nervous to make direct contact with Satoru's own.

For all his height, Asada sure didn't know how to use it to his advantage. A pity, but it's not Satoru's problem.

"Did you need something?" he asks, poking his straw into his juice box.

Asada startles at the question, his shoulders jumping to his ears comically. He steeples his jittery fingers together, words tumbling out of his mouth in a jumbled mess as he delivers his statement in one nervous breath.

He gives Satoru an expectant look, as if Satoru's capable of deciphering that nonsense.

Satoru sips his juice. "I didn't understand any of that."

Asada's shoulders visibly slump, his dejection palpable. "S-Senpai, I wanted to talk to you about Sawamura-senpai…"

Satoru glares, remembering the other boy's exchange with Sawamura earlier in the day. He knows it's unfair of him, but he regards Asada with thinly veiled disdain as he asks, "What about him?"

Asada gulps, his quivering reminding Satoru of a leaf in the wind. Usually Satoru wouldn't want someone to look at him with such fear in their eyes, but, this one time, he doesn't mind.

"U-Um," Asada starts, wringing his fingers. "I was there in the cafeteria…I heard everything you and Okumura and Seto were talking about…"

Satoru's brow rises marginally, surprise tinging his face. He sips his juice noisily, trying to recall if he saw the tall boy that night, but his brain comes up blank. Instead of deliberating on the matter of whether Asada has some secret ability to diminish his own existence, Satoru lets out a noncommittal hum, which Asada takes as his cue to continue.

"I didn't want to intervene at first, but I felt that as Sawamura-senpai's roommate and f-friend—" Asada pauses, probably gathering his wits as his cheeks flush an almost feverish red. "—I-I have an obligation to protect him and his happiness, s-so…!"

He draws himself up to his full height, arms perfectly parallel to his torso as he holds his head high and practically hollers, "Please take care of Sawamura-senpai in my stead!"

Satoru stops slurping his juice, leveling Asada a distrustful glare over his straw. "What."

Asada's blush grows impossibly redder, but he valiantly trudges on, saying, "Though it pains me, if Sawamura-senpai wishes to be with you, then I'll have to accept it! P-Please treat him right, senpai!"

No matter how much Satoru thinks about it, he truly cannot fathom what is going on. All he could muster is a weak: "Huh?"

Satoru's utterance goes unnoticed as Asada continues his tearful tangent, glossy eyes shimmering behind his glasses. "Just know that once I find my place, I'll definitely have Sawamura-senpai acknowledge me! Until then, handle his feelings with care!"

An abrupt laugh bursts out of Asada, the sound a seamless blend of melancholy and resignation. "He's actually quite sensitive, but if it's you…From the way he looks at you, I don't think he'll mind at all." He wipes at the bottom of his eyes, sniffling as he readjusts his glasses. "That's all I had to say. Thanks for hearing me out, senpai."

He turns, walking out of the little alleyway between the dorms and looking much more at ease. The pattering of his footsteps slowly quieten until it disappears completely, leaving Satoru with silence hanging over his head and a storm brewing in his ribcage.

There's so much Satoru doesn't understand, but Asada's words leave his heart thumping heavily in his chest. He wants to chase after Asada, demand that he explain his enigmatic advice, but he stays rooted to the ground, putting himself at the mercy of his own thoughts.

 _Does that mean…Sawamura feels the same?_

His juice box falls to the ground and Satoru fists his shirt in a tight grip, clutching at the fabric like it's his last line to sanity.

The one other time he felt this much elation was when he was assigned the ace number and Satoru thinks, no, he shouldn't be worried that Sawamura means as much to him as baseball does.

/

"Yo, Furuya!" Sawamura loudly greets, pulling up a chair in front of Satoru's desk. He stretches his lips into a wide smile, showcasing his shiny, white teeth. Satoru, for some reason, feels like he has to shield his eyes, or he'll go blind from how bright the room has gotten all of a sudden.

Instead, he squints, muttering, "What is it?"

Sawamura pouts, puffing his cheeks. "What kind of gloomy response is that? I can't say hi to a friend?"

"Friend?" Satoru echoes, his heart scampering like the traitor it is.

"Yeah?" Sawamura tilts his head, lips curling into a confused, yet endearing smile. "I mean, I know we're rivals, but I thought—"

"It's fine," Satoru says, before he can stop himself. "Friends is…good."

"Cool," Sawamura says, grinning in a way that makes Satoru chest do all these weird flips. "Also," he whispers, cupping the side of his mouth with a hand as he leans closer to hover in front of Satoru's face, "I know all about your secret."

It takes a great deal of willpower for Satoru to ignore the almost nonexistent space between them. "Secret?"

"Yup!" Sawamura chirps, leaning back into his chair. "Asada told me! And then I hunted down Okumura and Seto to tell me more!" He laughs cheerfully, the corners of his eyes crinkling and Satoru doesn't want to dwell on how adorable the sight is.

"Tell you what?" Satoru asks.

"About how strongly you feel about me!" Sawamura says, crossing his arms over the edge of Satoru's desk. He goes uncharacteristically quiet, a light blush sweeping over his cheeks. His smile is soft, but its brightness hasn't dimmed at all, making Satoru feel warm all over. "I don't know why you were running around asking everyone but me…"

He sighs fondly, warm brown eyes gazing directly into Satoru's own silver. "I've considered you my friend for a while now, so please stop giving our dear underclassmen so much trouble. Okay, Satoru?"

Satoru nods, unable to speak as he tries to swallow the stubborn lump that has wormed its way from the depths of his heart and into his throat. Sawamura smiles, seemingly satisfied, and he mutely watches Sawamura put back the chair to its correct desk before making his way over to presumably bother Kanemaru.

He flashes Satoru a cute grin over his shoulder before yelping as Kanemaru starts berating him to do his own homework for once.

Satoru blushes, quickly averting his eyes to his desk as his heart rate picks up, its speed rivaling that of his fastballs. He wonders if it's normal for teenagers his age to be having this many heart problems.

His forehead makes painful contact with his desk, startling the group of girls behind him.

Sawamura's words should have calmed him down, but Satoru feels as worked up as ever, the underlying tension thrumming under his skin too deep for him to relieve. He sighs into the wood under his face, debating on whether he should talk to Yui again.

For whatever reason the restlessness, accompanied by a twinge of disappointment, has in taking root in his heart, Satoru won't let the warmth of Sawamura's words go to waste.

He's sure that, with time, he'll find the satisfaction his heart so desperately wishes for, but for now, he's content with this.

* * *

 **i can't believe terajima gave us such good rivals to friends dynamic...now i'm just waiting for the lovers part**

 **as always, apologies for any mistakes and thanks for reading!**


End file.
